Editor's Wallet

Otago Witness, Issue 3959, 28 January 1930, Page 76

Editor's Wallet

ON TO THE SEA! On to the sea! Where the waves’ rude thunder Booms on the shore with a savage glee, W aves like old pirates a-thirst" for plunder—On to the sea! On to the sea! Inland the meadows are fair and gracious, Yet in our hearts we all long to be 1 leading the seashore so wide ami spacious—■ On to the sea! On to the sea! .there overhead go the seagulls wheeling. 1 here winds are blustering wild and free, Schooners against the horizon heeling— Out on the sea! Out on the sea! Here in green lance trees are o'er-arching. But, and no matter where'er we be, M e who are coastboru must still keep marching—On to the sea! On to the sea! L. Al. 0., in Tit Bits. “HE DREW BLANK.” A class of boys in a London school were being examined in history. The master supervising the examination was very much surprised when a boy asked for a piece of drawing paper. AA ky do you want drawing paper? ” said the master. The boy replied: ‘Well, sir. one of the questions says. ' Sketch the career of Simon de Montfort.”’

SIMPLE. 1 he other day a man. hitherto without a spot on his character, inquired with well-teigned innocence: How can five persons divide five eggs so that each man will receive one ami still one remain in the dish? ” After the company went all but di.-*-ti acted in the mazes of this proposition, the fellow meanly said: " One takes the dish with the egg.” GOOD ADVICE. Hero flushing on stage ami stumbling ei a body I : “Ah, there has been foul play here. What shall 1 do? ” Alan m the Callery (a football enthusiast): “Give him a free kick.” STONE AGE GIRL! Although nearly £100.000.000 is spent in America, Europe, and the British Empire in cosmetics, the women of the present day are by no means the inventors of this form of facial adornment. The art of make-up. almost as old as the human race, had .reached a high point of development among the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, and other peoples. Recently it was discovered that the colleen of the Stone Age, more than 2500 years ago, used lipstick. In graves of the period unearthed accidentally in the course of harbour improvement work r? w! £ ? ln L >a y Island, off the Irish coast near Dublin, representatives of the Dublin Museum found sticks of waxlike pink paint which they declared the belles of long ago employed to heighten the colour ot their bps. Other interesting articles found in the graves included metal brooches, stone finger rings, and bronze bracelets. There also was an iron hand mirror which, according to experts, never possessed a high polish, but which was turned into an implement of reflection by dipping it first in water.

A RICH REJOINDER. Winthrop was in the habit of putting on airs when he met any of his One evening he happened to arrive very late for a dance to which he had been invited. .“ I’ m most terribly sorry,” he said to his hostess. “ I was unavoidably detained. As a matter of fact, I wag dismissing mv second footman.” Really? ” broke in an acquaintance, who was standing near them. “Now, isn't that curious? I’ve just been dismissing my fifth parlourmaid.” A look of incredulity spread over Winthrop’s face. “ Your fifth parlourmaid? ” he repeated. “Yes,” said the other; “ mv fifth since J uly.”

THAT EXPLAINED IT. “I have bought a ear, and given my piano in exchange.” Do motor dealers take pianos in exlisua lly. but this dealer lives in the fiat under mine.” LITTLE BILL’S FIRST LOVE! She came with a swerve and she came with a swoop. She gracefully sprang through pink hoop after hoop. She shone like a star, and the blue of her eyes I could guess was the colour of still summer skies. She rode round the ring on the tips of her toes, Her hair blew like silk, and her cheeks shamed the rose. And I felt all the time that I flew by her side. And I knew round my heart she for ever would ride. —lrene Heath, in Women's Weekly. WHAT IS WIND? An inspector was examining a class of pupils. “ Tell me, children, what is wind,” he began. There was silence for a moment, then a little boy stood up. “ Please, sir, air in a hurry.”

A HUMANE ACTION. liie after-dinner speaker was droning on ami on without showing a sign of coming to an end. One listener in particular was getting bored almost to distraction. At last this gentleman could stand it no longer. His eyes closed, ami his head sank down on to the table. But the chairman. happened to be sitting next to him, felt that he could not allow that. "Cntiy he tapped him on the head with his hammer. J he bored one glanced up again for a moment. “Hit me harder.” he said in a sta<m whisper. “ 1 can still hear him.” SHE DID FLY. ''Mummy, can all angels fly?” A er, darling.” But cook can't fly. and dad.lv culls her his little angel.” "No, but she will fly. dear.” POTTED WISDOM. Cup ties are always a big draw: so are mustard plasters. Some people ar e moved bv music, others leave voluntarily. Men who get sentenced for arson no longer make light of things. In playing cards for money a good deal -depends on a good deal. Dentists are very conscientious: tliev spare no pains in their work. Blacksmiths have a habit of doing things in the heat of the moment. . Hotels don't want guests whose hi-a-'e is bunted to the bags in the knees of tncir trousers. ee : means of communi'■ition are the telephone, telegraph, and tell-a-woman. HE GOT IT. Kelly and Cohen were having dinner togethei Cohen helped himself to the larger fish, and Kelly said: I'ine manners ye have, Cohen. If I had reached out first I’d have taken the smaller fish. ri -? 11 ’ ’ replied, “ vou got it. dnln t you “ HELL'S HALF ACRE.” AA hat is the most awe-inspiring spectacle you have ever witnessed? To those who have seen “Hell's Half-acre” there is but one answer.

'Hells Half-acre!” Who was the genius that invented that name? Can you imagine what Dante's Inferno must have been like? Night. A narrow banked creek of half an acre on the edge of the vast Turner rn i Cy of Canada. The ravine tilled with more gas than is burned any day in every furnace and boiler in Biimingham and -Manchester. The whole set alight: a blazing inferno, a mighty, rushmix toi ren t of flame, shooting with hissing roaring volume 40 feet of red and vellow Half-acre*'! 1 ” That ‘ ,llells Technically it is the overflow valley of the oilfields. So vast is the production ot gas that there is an overproduction a '\?'- et there is no economic outlet So millions of cubic feet of gas, ignited as they are released from giant pipes, are discharged over the sloping banks into the creek. And from miles down the vallev the roar of the seething furnace is echoed from hill to hill, and 50 miles awav a blood-red glow in the sky announces the presence of the dreaded inferno. Men have gone mad gazing into its heart. They have seen an army of crimson soldiers marching from the flames, they have seen the hosts of hell rise trom the smoke. They have seen a titanic monster glowering in the depths. s 'jch is the awesome majesty of “Hell’s Half-acre.”

THE OLD REMEDY. The ancient herbalist was holding forth on the virtues of “ yarbs,” and claimed that for every ache under the sun there "‘lf a - ier l ) 1° remove it. “What about heartache?” said a wag. If you’re caught with that.” said the ancient, “ there’s nothing like thyme.” SCANDAL. When you hear a man defamed. Scandal from some source unnamed, Hints of something worse behind. Give it no place in your mind; I'or a tale that seems as true Might perchance be told of you. Scandal is a wizard’s wand Used to sever friendship's bond; Rumour is a fickle jade, Of the daylight much afraid—• And the man who spreads her tale, In your time of need will fail. So refuse to hear or spread Rumours that were better dead; Charity no evil thinks, Ne'er from poisoned wells love drinks; , . would a friend defame Soils thereby his own good name. —A. B. Cooper, in Tit Bits. TOO HEAVENLY. “Millie,” he said, “you are a little angel! ” His wife, unaccustomed to such praise, beamed at him across the breakfast table. “And why do you think that, dear? ” she asked in the sweetest tones she had used since their wedding day. He gave a bitter smile. “Because,” he said, “you’re always flitting about the house, always harping on things, and now, according to your own account, you have nothing at all to wear,”

SOME TRUTH IN IT.

An argument arose in a certain club concerning the merits of temperance. One member who. strangely enough, espoused tins unpopular cause, proceeded to develop his contention at length, and up a hne peroration by saying, . I* ere would the Americans be to-day n ?t were not for prohibition?” there was a slight pause, and then a nasal voice spoke up: “In America, I i guess. TAKE CARE. I uele: “My boy. take care of the pennies and the shillings will take care of themselves.” Willie: "I do take care of the pennies, but a.-i soon as they get to be shillings dad takes care of ’em.” HALF-TIME. Ronnie s mother was firm in her refusal. " No, ’ she said, “ you can't have four helpings of pudding, three is enough for any little boy." Ronnie’s instant reply was a flood of tears. Not until a full hour had passed did he stop bellowing. “.Are you going to be good now? ” asked his mother. “I m tired of hearing that noise. It hasn't been a bit of use, has it ? ” Ronnie s expression grew sour once more. " I haven't finished, anyway,” he piped in defiant tones. “I'm only resting." LAUGHTER. M hat a gorgeous thing is laughter! It takes a little doing when tile skies are grey- when nothing is right, nothing seems as if it will ever be right again. Then is the time to be gay—to let the world ring with our laughter. Sometimes, in the depths of the pit of our despair, we would give a fortune for the ability to laugh. How often, in some public place, we hear, suddenly, a laugh that sets the nerves of our mind tingling with admiration, envy, desire. Oh, if we could do tiiat! But why not? Laughter is a wonderful inheritance. To some it is automatic; to others it is impossible. And yet, so shrewd and far-seeing and wonderful is this amazing mind of ours that if we but presume and practise the art of laughter it will become automatic. I o laugh when the waves of affairs almost drown us is to turn a gloomy world into a world of sunlight. Gidy, don’t laugh in the wrong place. 1 hat’s as bad as never laughing. The time to laugh, the most precious time to laugh, is when the weather is cold, when friends seem to be tft busy to take notice—when we are alone. Then let's laugh loud and long. AA’e shall be astonished how well the welkin will laugh t°°-—G. H. G., in an exchange. WOODEN. Professor: "Why don't vou answer me? ” Student: "I did. Professor. I shook my head." Professor: “ A Veil, you don't expect me to hear it rattle from here, do you? “ FASHIONS! AA hen the summer comes once more Needful changes must be faced. Garments that of late we wore Must by others be replaced. Even for the dress reformer Clothes must be a trifle warmer. Chloe dutifully tries Nothing needless to expend. And she scans with anxious eyes Frocks she treasured to this end— Things that did indeed become her, But were laid aside for summer. Quite content though plainly dressed, Still she finds to her despair AA’ith intentions of the best She has “ nothing fit to wear.” AVhy does Fashion still arrange so That the mode must always change so? Can I let her look a fright Can I see her humbled, pray, Tn her jealous rivals’ sight? Manfully I answer, “Nay! ” New attire must be selected— Just, in fact, as she expected! -—C. E. 8., in Home Chat.

KNEW HIM! AVigg: “No; I can't say that Talkalot is a triend of mine. I merely have a speaking acquaintance with him.” AVagg: “Most people have onlj- a listening acquaintance.” CITY BURIED IN A JUNGLE. The veil of centuries of oblivion is at last to be torn from the ancient city of Gedi, which for 300 years has lain crumbling to ruin in the dense African jungle only 50 miles from modern Mombasa. Professor Fleure, of the University College of Wales, who has been visiting Kenya Colony with the members of the British Association, believes that Gedi. known in Kenya as the “ buried city,” is of Persian origin and at least 600 years old. The ruins disclose a fine Arabic writing, especially in the mosques and tombs. Professor Fleure thinks that Gedi would well repay investigations by archaeological and ethnological experts. He does not believe these would be difficult in view of the profusion of evidence provided by the ruins. The town was known to the tribes on the coast for many years, but it was shunned by them because they regarded it as being haunted by the spirits of the dead, who wreak special vengeance on intruders. The lighting of a fire in the precincts of the ruins was considered particularly dangerous by the negroes, even if the fire was only a cigarette.

APPROPRIATE. Returning from the opera, a party of friends were discussing the singing. “Hasn’t the prima donna got a velvety voice? ” said one. “ Yes,” returned a cynic, “ that’s why she makes such a pile out of it.”

NO GETTING AAVAY.

I arson: “AA hy are you in prison my good man? ’ Prisoner: “ For driving a car too Parson: “You mean too quickly! ” Prisoner: “No, I mean too slowly. The owner overtook me.”

love knows no reason. They wanted to become engaged. The next item on the programme was the interview with father, a duty the young man did not relish. Ihe girl gave him all the encouragement she could, and he practised the stiff upper lip until he thought he could face the ordeal without a tremor. He even wrote down his speech and learned it by leciting it to himself in the mirror a dozen times a day. At last he felt proficient. ' Her father’s reception was not encouraging. but he began bravely. * "Mr Edgewood.” he said, “ I want to mat ry your daughter ” “AA hat is your reason?” her father interrupted. The young man thought a moment. The air seemed stifling, and his memory began to play tricks. I have no reason.” he managed to rejdy. “lam in love.” PLAY THE GAME. Someone dealt a hand one day And gave a man a king. But the man across the way He hardly gave a thing. But the king that seemed so strong _ AA’as really little use. ror the other came along And trumped it with a deuce. Luck is quite important, yes, -And yet I often claim It also matters more or less The way you play the game. Cflten in this very town, AA'hen out to bridge and sup. I have seen a king fall down And seen a deuce stand up. Life's a little game of cards. •lust that and nothing more; It’s been said by better bards In better words before. Here's the great unchanging law That always is the same: AA'hat matters isn't what you draw, But how you play the game. -—Douglas Malloch, in Tit Bits. AN OUTSIZE. A youth with a very large mouth entered a music shop to purchase a mouth organ, but although he was shown every instrument in stock he was dissatisfied with every one. “ Look here.” said the -weary assistant, ' we shall have to measure you for one. Just try your mouth along this piano.”

GLASGOW’S BLIND BAND. Blind men ate the musicians in one of the most remarkable bands in existence—that composed of inmates of the Royal Glasgow Asylum for the Blind. Air Scott, their leader, used a novel means of conducting. For many years the blind bandsmen were guided by the conductor lapping his baton on the music stand. The loud tap. however, spoilt the effect of the music. At last Mr Scott hit on the idea of directing the band by means of strings attached to each player s leg and manipulated by him. and it is a simplified system of this idea he uses now. One of the greatest difficulties of the bandsmen is that they have to memorise every piece they play. The music is first learned from Braille characters. SHE DID. “I had a great game to-dav, dear'” commenced Airs Tryhon on her return from golf. " Airs Goit was there, and during a mixed foursome drove the ball mto a horse's nosebag.” “Indeed.” replied her husband, “I bet she received a lot of chaff! ”

STRENGTH. I have known much of life’s gladness. Now cometh trial and wrong. Lord, through the time of my sadness Let me be faithful and strong. Joy has been mine in good measure. Now that I suffer and weep, Let me remember, no treasure Is given to mortals to keep. Lord, I have revelled in beauty. Now, when a cross I must bear. Let me stand up to my duty! Let me not think it unfair! Now, when the cold winds are blowing, Now, when the dark nights seem long And the bitter of life I am knowing, Let me be faithful and strong! -—Edgar A. Guest, in an exchange. WHAT HE WAS GOING TO BE. “ I understand your son's still at cok lege, old man? ” Brown said to his friend Robinson. “Yes,” the latter replied, “he’s still there ” “ AVell,” Brown asked, “and what is lie* going to be when he passes his exami s nation? " “A very old man?'